THE OFFICIAL SITE COPYRIGHT (c) RESHMA VALLIAPPAN. 2017 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. DMAE.
I try not to share my poetry as a blog post cause all of them come from a place buried with many metaphors. It is what a schizophrenist does after all.
So I share one of my pieces written couple of months back.
I leave the interpretations open to anything and anyone.
Breathing nightingales bestow a voice
One of love written on leaves
Another inked upon my breast
Soon to be weaned
Into the shores
Groping kisses by the crescent
Her phantom waits
gesturing the ocean by her lark
Tucking her wings in my fate –
altering our lips, as skins live
Morn grew bitter, ravaging as a white butterfly
Enslaving my truth
You will leave, she cried
Unknown to her thighs
I strung in darkness
Flickering milestones of love, not to be made to be lost
Her eyes moored at its mortality
Snickering in tears
As my body whisked away
As the lyric died, the nightingale smiled
Our shadows met, in cold hearts
Leave, she said.
And so did I.
˙©Reshma Valliappan 2016